


Twister

by phoenixnz



Series: The Chronicles of Martha and Jonathan [18]
Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixnz/pseuds/phoenixnz
Summary: Tornadoes are a way of life in Kansas. The Kents have a storm cellar, but it's not just used to protect them from storms. It's also hiding something else.





	Twister

**Author's Note:**

> I think this question has been asked many times and I do think it's a major plot hole in the series. How did Jonathan manage to keep the ship a secret from Clark for twelve years if it was in the storm cellar? Especially since they live in tornado country. This was my attempt to answer that.

The one thing Jonathan had never really liked about living in the Mid-West was the occasional tornado that would blow across the Kansas countryside. They had been extremely lucky that, while there had been a few twisters since Martha came to live at the farm, none had brought with them the devastating destruction that had once flattened the little farmhouse a decade before he was born. 

The farm had a purpose-built storm cellar. It was right in the middle of the yard, between the barn and the house. Martha kept her preserves in the cellar, since it was cool. 

Of course, there was one other item in the storm cellar that they never talked about and never even acknowledged. It was covered with a plastic sheet in the back of the cellar. It was the only place Jonathan had been able to think of to keep it. Clark’s spaceship. 

Clark never went down in the cellar. Not without one of them with him. He’d followed his mother once when she went to get a jar of peaches, but had run out shrieking about the nest of spiders. The little boy might be stronger than normal boys and he might be able to run faster than the eye could see, but he was still a little boy who had normal fears of the dark and of spiders. Luckily he had never seen the plastic-covered spaceship. 

They hadn’t needed to use the storm cellar in the time since Clark had come to live with them. They might live in tornado alley but it was usually the luck of the draw if a twister set down near the farm and so far they had been extremely fortunate. 

In the spring of 1995, they had a run of twisters. Most had been only small, force one or two at best. The occasional whirlwind would blow as cold air from above hit hot air from below but they disappeared within seconds. They never even came close to the farmhouse.

It was Murphy’s Law that things like that could turnaround in a moment. 

Jonathan was out on the farm checking on the cows and making sure their water troughs were filled and they had adequate feed. It was late April and unseasonably warm. Sweat gathered on his brow as he doled out more hay in the hot sun. Martha would nag him about wearing a hat but most of the time he didn’t bother. Especially being out on the tractor. 

A breeze blew, kicking up some leaves which had fallen from the trees. The small amount of debris seemed to spin in a circle, like a mini whirlwind. He gazed at it, his brow creasing in a frown. The cows began to make noises as if they were feeling unsettled. 

“Jonathan?”

He looked up and over toward the boundary fence. Martha stood there, calling and waving to him. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a clearer look at her face. He’d recently been having trouble with his vision but had put it down to getting older. He was sure Martha would nag him about going to the eye doctor and he kept putting it off. 

He turned the tractor around and headed toward his wife. A sudden cold gust made him shiver and look up at the sky. In the distance, he could see black clouds gathering. They were in for a storm. 

“Martha?”

“The school called. They’re sending the children home early. There’s been a tornado warning.” Her face showed worry. 

He shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine Martha,” he said, even as he was filled with a sense of foreboding. He’d lived long enough to get a sense when something was brewing and he felt it in the air. It was the same kind of feeling he got when he sensed a thunderstorm approaching. Like an electrified atmosphere. 

Martha went on to say that she had been talking to a couple of the parents who lived the other side of town. Both of them had relatives in the next county. A tornado had struck that morning and their relatives had barely escaped with their lives.

Just as he headed toward the gate to put the tractor in the barn, he heard the sound of a 250-horsepower engine chugging along the road. From the sound of the engine, it could use a decent overhaul, he thought. 

Martha shielded her eyes from the sun and looked toward the bus stop. Obviously the school hadn’t been able to call all the parents in time, or else they’d assumed those children who lived on the many farms dotted around Smallville had parents who would be home. 

Clark came running up the driveway, reaching the barn just as Jonathan got off the tractor.

“Mom, Dad. They said there’s gonna be a tornado.”

Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, we heard, son. Come help me get some things inside.”

The storm began moving closer, the wind whipping up and the air growing colder. Jonathan felt the same apprehension he always felt in a storm, like a sickening sensation in his stomach.

Martha came back from the house. “They just said on the radio a tornado touched down about a couple of miles south of here.”

Jonathan looked up at the sky. It was now an odd shade of green. 

“We’d better get to the storm cellar,” he said. “Grab Clark.”

He felt the wind whipping around his short hair. In a space of five minutes, the wind had risen in intensity. Not to mention the noise. He’d often heard it said that a tornado sounded like a freight train coming. He didn’t know about that but it was sure loud.

He struggled to pull open the double doors to the cellar. As he started to step inside, he was reminded of the ship in the back of the cellar. Apart from the one time Clark had followed his mother in, he had never been down here. Jonathan knew eventually he’d have to tell his son about the ship in the cellar but he fervently hoped today was not the day. 

He glanced uneasily toward the dark shape in the corner. He hated that thing. It always served as a reminder that his son was not really his. He had read a couple of books on adoption: one was about a mother whose child’s birth mother had come looking for them. The adopted mother had ended up going to court to stop the birth mother from taking the child and had lost. That had always been Jonathan’s worst fear. That Clark’s birth parents were alive out there and would tell them it had all been a mistake. 

Still, there was nothing he could do about it right now. Not with a tornado coming.

“Martha?” he called.

She ran with her hand in Clark’s. The wind was practically roaring now, whipping her hair in her face so she was almost blinded. He ran to her and grabbed her hand. Together, the three of them ran to the storm cellar. Just as he reached for the doors he saw it. The twister was moving fast across the field. It looked big enough to be a Force Three or Four. He prayed it would leave the farmhouse untouched. 

He pulled the doors shut and locked them. The doors rattled in the wind as he joined his family, wrapping his arms around them. He could feel Clark shivering in fright. 

“It’s all right, son. It’ll be over soon,” he promised. 

Clark buried his face in his father’s legs. He hadn’t quite grown to waist height yet, but he was getting taller. 

They held each other in the darkness, waiting out the storm. 

“Dad, what’s that?”

He frowned. “What’s what, son?”

Clark, forgetting his fright in his curiosity, had let go of his father and was wandering toward the ship. 

“That’s just farm equipment, son. It’s old stuff we don’t use anymore.”

“Really?”

It was dark in the cellar but the rattling doors let in just enough light that Jonathan could see Martha looking worried and Clark reaching out a small hand to touch the plastic sheeting.

“No! Clark! Don’t touch that!”

The little boy turned and stared at his father. 

“It’s very dangerous,” Jonathan told him. 

Clark looked dubious, hesitating as he turned to the strangely-shaped object, clearly torn between obeying his father and trying to find out what the object was. 

“Please, baby, come away,” his mother told him. “We don’t want you to get hurt.”

How she managed to convince him to come back to them he didn’t know, but he was relieved when Clark returned to his side. Martha seemed to have a way of talking to Clark and getting him to obey with only a look or a word. 

The wind had dropped and he checked by opening one of the doors. The tornado had passed and the sun had come out again. They could leave the storm cellar. 

As Martha took Clark out to inspect the damage, Jonathan lingered, glancing once again at the ship. One day, he knew, he would have to tell Clark the truth. Eventually Clark would disregard his parents and look under the sheet. He was a good kid and tended to do as his parents asked without them needing to push but his curiosity could only be kept at bay so long. 

Jonathan just hoped he would be able to handle telling his son the truth when that day came.


End file.
